


Regretting

by Aly_H



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Brooding, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mage-Templar War, Mages, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - In Hushed Whispers, Regrets, Reluctant Inquisitor, Tevinter Imperium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 13:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16855117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: Inquisitor Lark Trevelyan as Herald having a chat with Dorian at Haven, after “In Hushed Whispers”, about regrets.





	Regretting

The Herald of Andraste sighed quietly as she closed her eyes, she’d abandoned the suffocating quiet of her little cabin for the busy little tavern. But it hadn’t helped get her thoughts together.

The first letter she’d written to her brother lay just beneath her elbow, it was painfully short but her attempt to slip it past the Inquisition’s spymaster had not gone unnoticed. 

_Luke. Save me. – Lark_

**_If you wish to write your brother use the proper channels, Herald._** **_– Leliana_**

She massaged her temple a little – trying to think of what to say in a letter that would met with the approval of the newest set of ‘watchers’. At least the Inquisition’s leash was not as short as the Circle’s had been.

And she _didn’t_ disapprove of sealing the Breach. She was fine working to do it, what frightened her was the fact that she’d been given a blasphemous title to go on top of the magic that already warranted her death at a stake according to half of Thedas. What happened _after_ the Inquisition? Closing the Breach wouldn’t be enough to bring peace – the Elder One would see to that, but it might be enough to make _her_ no longer a necessity.

If she was ‘lucky’ enough to become a ‘hero’ she’d follow in the footsteps of the Warden Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall. A new title to subsume her own name, a legend instead of a personality and the promise that her life would be spent sacrificing herself to try to keep what she had saved the first time safe.

It was expected of Wardens that they would live short, harsh lives, cut off from the world of the living by their quest against the Blight. And the Champion of Kirkwall, according to the stories, had struggled to keep their city safe only to famously fail to protect it from their own lover.

If she was unlucky closing the Breach would cost her her life.

Frankly she wasn’t sure which was worse.

Her hand _ached_ as the Breach high above them flickered with a pulse of power and she set the quill down again to massage it wondering if her life wouldn’t be easier if she just cut the damned thing off and gave it to Solas to use, he seemed far more capable of making sense of the Rifts than she was.

The red haired Herald dropped her head into her hands, it was too _much_.

Tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to fall when she heard someone settle onto the chair across from hers.

“The wine here truly is ghastly, isn’t it?” Dorian met the glare she shot him with his overly charming smile and a laugh. “How are we today, Herald?”

“Regretting my life choices,” she said quietly, the tightness in her throat threatening to cut her voice off.

No matter how cold or aloof or frivolous the Tevinter mage tried to pretend to be his eyes betrayed a sort of kindness that kept threatening to break loose. A kindness that had been leashed to keep it from hurting him, and had probably done so in the past.

“I know you Southerners do things differently but you may have the order wrong – you’re supposed to drink and regret your choices in the morning,” he offered. “Any particular regrets?”

She hesitated before giving a shrug – of all the people who could judge her she doubted that Dorian would be the one _to_ , “My eldest brother lives in Qarinus with his lover, a few months before the Conclave he wrote to me to tell me that if I came North I would be safe, that his lover would sponsor me so that I could study magic at the Circle there if I wanted to or I could find some life that suited me better.”

Dorian smiled crookedly, “I don’t think life in Tevinter would suit you very well, Trevelyan. And I don’t think that you’re capable of running away from a problem once you see it. Mark or no Mark you would be here trying to put things back together however you could. Of course I’ve known you for all of two weeks, time travel aside.”

The red head eyed him, for all the warnings the others had given her about trusting Dorian she couldn’t help it.

“No, you’re right,” she sighed, “But don’t you wish sometimes you could just change the part of you that makes it hard to just lead a quiet life?”

“More often than I like to let anyone know,” he sighed, reaching for his wine and taking a drink, “I try not to regret that I can’t – it’s better to be who I am, even with all its cost, I hope. And, so far, Thedas is lucky to have you, Herald.”

Violet eyes studied him, curious, but unwilling to prod at the source of his pain uninvited.

“Dorian? I’d like it if you’d just call me ‘Lark’ – I want to be friends.”

“You may come to regret that, Lark.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think I will,” the tightness in her chest seemed looser than before and for the first time that day she felt better. Writing her brother could wait – she still had no idea what to tell any of her family, let alone Luke – for now she pulled her own drink to her. “At least not until the morning, right?”


End file.
